Catching Up And Moving On

I often stand with my back to the future.
Gazing into my past, I try to sift through my mistakes, sorting out what I could have done differently, trying to learn, so history won't repeat history. Yet, sometimes I wonder if I wander the mazes too frequently. Have they become regular walking paths? Maybe I've learned what I can from the labyrinth.
I feel my lives colliding; present, future, past. I'm finally catching up to myself; the part of me who knows it's time to move forward. I've wrestled with questions. Some, I'll never know the answer to.
It is sad to say goodbye to yesterdays. There are memories I've clung to, wrapping myself in them like a blanket, shutting out the present, resting in an easier, simpler time.
Though, as time goes by, some memories become tainted by reality. The present always seems to burst the idealistic past's bubble, and I must accept things will never go back to the way they were.
That is not the nature of life.
The sweetness leaves some memories, and no matter how long I wander in the past, I find myself in the present, a slight bitterness on my tongue.
I cannot get the past back.
A part of me has waiting for the rest to catch up.
I think I'm finding and meeting her now.
I like this woman. I can see by the light in her eyes she has not given up. I can tell by the occasional flicker of wariness across her face she has known deep pain and loss, and has not forgotten the salty taste of heartache's tears.
I like this woman. She is becoming bolder when she needs to, and discovering the worth of silence. She is many things I've always wanted, from her long hair, to her adventurous spirit, to her heart who's bottom is yet to be found. She is spontaneous and dependable.
I like this woman, facing the winds of future-change, unafraid.
She's let herself hope and dream again, while still remembering to breathe, and stand on her current stepping stone in time.
She is holding out her hand to me.
She has waited patiently for me to catch up. I haven't been ready before now.
We take our first step together, maybe for the first time ever.
Forward, on, moving as one.    

Turbulence.

Fasten your seat-belts.
Sometimes I wonder if God gets a small measure of amusement at my tiny soap opera of a life.
Honestly.
The rate of crazy things, and how quickly my life changes, is truly astonishing.
Or is it?
Maybe everyone's life is like this, maybe it's part of being human.
My mom and I had a chat over Christmas about the bizarre things that have happened to our family. How it seems like we can't have a single year without some strange storm to blow us off course.
And I realized my life has lacked constancy ever since I was born.
Growing up a missionary kid, we were always moving, always making new friends, always travelling to new churches to raise support.
Politics forced us back to Canada, we had a year and a half of perceived peace, then we up and go to Winnipeg, of all places. But even there, what we thought we came for changed.
Change, change change.
Curves ahead.
Rocky road.
Turbulence.
Career changes, changing churches, house renovations.
I was swept in the tidal wave, adapting as best I could.
I was good at it. I became adept at letting people in, and letting people go. Staying deeply unattached. I craved constancy, even though I had no name for it at that point.
How I longed for a rock in the surging sea of change.
I found solace in books, knitting, music, and my dog.
The unasked question, every time I met a new person.
"Will you stay?"
Now, at 21, I see life works in cycles. Seasons.
The question is answered. Sometimes yes, sometimes no.
I've spent a majority of my life trying to cling to shreds of what I thought would last forever.
Sound familiar?
and yet,

"Quick now, here, now, always-
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well
All manner if things shall be well
When the tongues of flames are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one."

Excerpt from "Little Gidding" of The Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot